the letter
by ribbons-blue
Summary: Elijah is departing Mystic Falls, and there is one final goodbye to be written… [Elijah x Elena] Episode 3x15


_the letter_

* * *

><p><em>Elijah is departing Mystic Falls, and there is one final goodbye to be written… <em>

* * *

><p><em><strong>Elena…<strong>_

It is the pleased surprise that highlights her brown eyes when she opens the door, and then, a second later, the soft smile that upturns her lips, that catches him off guard.

His eyes harden at his own folly, a self-deprecating smirk threatening to emerge. A thousand plus years, and he is plunged into silence from the gift of one human girl's smile.

"Elijah," she breathes his name, voice curling around it sweetly.

He nods in greeting. "Elena." It is a cool acknowledgment, capturing none of the undeniable warmth sweeping through his body like a rapid wildfire at the sight of her. He is here, after all, merely to discover what she had been so nervously concealing from the night before, when her heart had raced and her pulse fluttered in his presence.

This visit is not for pleasantries.

"I was wondering if you might accompany me today," he inquires brusquely, watching the brief play of confusion dance across her expression, uncertainty warring with something else at his immediate request. "There is something…I would like you to see."

"Accompany you?" She repeats, tilting her head as she surveys him with that strangely penetrating gaze of hers. Elijah realizes with a jolt that of all the utterly human emotions in her eyes—puzzlement, mystification, curiosity—there is not a hint of mistrust.

He's seen mistrust before, been its constant companion both on the giving and receiving side for many long years, and therefore is well acquainted with its characterizing shadows and suspicious darkness. But there is none of that in this girl's face.

She honestly believes he means her no harm. A relationship built on such faith, how long has it been since he's allowed himself to…?

The thought is quickly banished as he finds himself responding to the innocence in her chocolate eyes, some of the ice unintentionally melting away from his demeanor. "Yes," he murmurs after a second's respite. "I believe you will enjoy it greatly, Elena."

A faint smile touches her lips again, and she gives a simple, "I'd be glad to."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Today I did things I abhor—<strong>_

"Please," she steps aside nimbly, opening the door a little wider. "Come in—I just need to get my coat, then we can leave." The invitation, they both know, is merely a formality: Elijah had been granted access to this house long ago.

Elijah quirks an amused eyebrow at her manners, and decides to humor her. He crosses the threshold of her home, body brushing lightly against hers in the limited space of the cramped doorway. "Thank you," he says, inclining his head briefly.

She blinks at him, before offering a hesitant, "I'll just be a minute."

As Elena heads up the stairs, presumably to her room, the first thing that strikes him is how utterly…empty the house is. Each room is still and lifeless, with none of the bustle or activity Elijah has long associated with the feeling of 'home'. He wanders idly through the living room, eyes scanning the dusty tables and furniture that lacks the impression of bodies upon it, a tell-tale sign of abandonment.

He requires no special vampire senses to tell him that the upstairs is equally as vacant.

One hand runs absentmindedly across the back of a chair as he absorbs the stillness of the house, suddenly understanding Elena's quick willingness to snatch up a chance to leave it.

_How long_, he wonders, staring blankly at the rows upon rows of pictures hanging upon the walls _(a young, laughing Elena, eyes bright and hopeful; a beaming couple that must have been her parents, arms protectively wrapped around her; a messy, mischievous boy sitting impatiently on his giggling sister's lap; a teenage version of her aunt being tackled by her niece and nephew_).

_How long has she been here alone?_

And yet he knows the answer to that, as surely as he knows the cause of her solitude and pain.

He knows that as he worked to regain his family, selfishly concerned for little else, this human girl worked only to spare hers, and in the process ended up losing it anyways.

He inextricably knows, deep within, that his inability to slay his brother that night, to fulfill all of his promises of honor and camaraderie have led to this; led to the death of her aunt and the sending away of her younger brother (_Klaus does like to boast about his doings, after all)_.

And most of all, it has led to Elena, compassionate, courageous Elena, dwelling by herself in a tomb, suffocating and surrounded by the memories of a family she no longer has.

To taste loneliness like this is not a fate he would wish upon anyone, least of all this girl. _Especially_ not this girl. A flash of unbidden anger makes him clench his hands, both towards himself for reneging on every promise he had ever made to her, and towards Stefan and Damon for leaving her by _herself_ like this, abandoning her to a house of needless hurt, preserving her physical life but ignoring her soul.

"Elijah?"

Her questioning voice abruptly breaks him from his reverie, and he glances up to see Elena at the foot of her stairs, coat in hand and regarding him oddly. "I'm sorry," she apologizes. "I didn't mean to surprise you. I said I'd only be a minute."

A corner of his mouth lifts at her words. "You hardly surprised me, Elena. Have you forgotten what I am?"

If Elijah was pressed to place a name with the expression flickering in her eyes, he would have to call it 'playfulness'. "You didn't look up when I was coming down the stairs," she points out knowingly, folding her arms and cocking her head to the side. "I surprised you." A pleased smile spreads across her lips, akin to that of a child's at surpassing their elder.

"Very well," he concedes in amusement, his previously somber mood slipping away. "You did indeed—I was deep in thought."

Mirth enters her eyes at his admission, and they simply stand together, her house no longer as empty as before.

* * *

><p><em><strong>To protect the one thing I value most—<strong>_

Little Rebekah, who had always looked up at him adoringly as a child, taking delight in stumbling over the difficult syllables of his name with an innocent glee.

Mischievous Kol, the troublemaker who, more often than not, required Elijah rescuing him from a horde of angry bears or a stampede of provoked mountain cats.

Quick witted Klaus, with whom Elijah could enjoy true brotherly closeness and amusing sibling rivalry.

Quiet, reserved Finn, who had regularly clung to Elijah like a second shadow in their childhood, unwilling to be parted from his elder brother for long.

Their faces swirl unfalteringly through his mind throughout the car ride, each one pleading, loving, accusing.

Elijah has forever been the one to watch over them, to guard them with the wary eyes of an elder brother. Any possible harm befalling them has always been entirely repugnant to him, their shared blood and bonds calling him to protect them. Failure has haunted him in that regard for so long—this one time he cannot accept the seemingly inevitable outcome.

He glances over at the girl sitting beside him, her olive skin glowing gold in the afternoon sun, light washing over the curve of her lips and brightening the deep shade of her eyes.

No, he cannot accept whatever fate has in store for his family this day…

…even if it means sacrificing something else he dearly craves.

* * *

><p><em><strong>My family.<strong>_

She is mutely delighted as he drives along the forest path, so long in disuse that it is covered in tangled leaves and vines and bits of bramble. Her familiarity with the land is obvious; her happiness palpable as she presses her fingers against the glass window eagerly (_he will not admit to glancing at her more than he bothers looking at the road)._

"I assume you have been here before?" He asks in amusement, unable to pretend to be unaffected by the feelings rolling off her in contented waves.

She jumps slightly in response, sending him a sheepish smile. Her petite hand immediately slides off the glass, a blush coloring her cheeks at her actions. "Not here, exactly," she tells him. "I was just remembering…Jeremy and I used to play in these woods, so often," she explains, a hint of wistfulness coloring her voice. Her lips tilt upwards in sweet nostalgia, her fingers tracing idle patterns on her hand. "When I was little, there were parts we knew like the back of our hands. It used to drive my parents completely crazy, how we'd disappear all the time."

"I can empathize with them." Dusty memories of days long since passed flash through his mind's eye, of his wild, free-spirited siblings' treks through the forests and his frantic attempts at keeping them alive. He smirks to himself when he realizes not much has changed in that regard.

Elena's head is cocked in keen interest. "How so?"

He cannot suppress the slight smile at her innocent question.

"Kol fell from that tree when he was twelve," he comments in way of reply, waving a hand to indicate a large, weathered sycamore standing high above all other trees like a forest guardian. "From the very top, almost."

Her eyes widen comically, as they trail up the enormous tree with a wondering look. "And he's not dead?" She realizes her ironic choice of words, and hastily amends, "I mean, completely dead?"

"No," he deadpans, shaking his head with a wry glance at her. "He fell on top of me, actually. I believe I was quite sufficient in breaking his fall."

He is immediately rewarded with the sound of her laughter, a rich noise that lights up her face and steals some of the adult worry and stress that has lined her skin and darkened her eyes. "Jeremy used to do that to me, all the time," she remembers fondly. "Only I think he used to try and land on me on purpose," she adds as a mock disgruntled afterthought.

"It does seem as though younger siblings tend to view the elders as convenient cushions."

She laughs again, her sweet mirth open and uninhibited. "So was that how most of your childhood was spent? Making sure your family didn't end up skewered on tree branches, protecting them?" A mild note of something close to guilt pervades her voice then, and she quickly looks down when Elijah throws a inquisitive glance in her direction.

"Yes," he responded, glancing back to the jumbled green stretching before them. "I believe that would be a rather accurate statement."

They are both comfortably silent for a few moments, the hum of the outside wind the only sound surrounding them. He casts another stealthy look at Elena again, who is anxiously biting her lip with a hooded gaze.

"Did they resent it, Elijah?" She asks suddenly, still staring down motionlessly at her hands. "Did they resent you trying to watch out for them?"

He sighs, beginning to understand where her question has stemmed from as a living room picture of a laughing boy held by his elder sister rises to the forefront of his mind.

At his exhale, Elena rapidly looks up and shakes her head with a tiny cough of embarrassment. "I'm sorry," she rushes out, cheeks flushing a light red. "I shouldn't have asked you that, it was intrusive and—"

"Elena." She falls into a hush at his gentle interjection. "I don't mind your asking." He catches her gaze, holding it steadily. "I will never begrudge you asking me anything you wish to know."

She nods wordlessly.

"And Elena?"

"Hm?"

"They don't resent you for it," he confides in her quietly. "They just…understand. He is your brother…he will understand."

* * *

><p><em><strong>If anyone can understand it—<strong>_

"So, where are we?" She looks around curiously as he slows them to an easy stop, gaze roving the unfamiliar woods.

"This is the approximate location of where my village was," he says, enjoying the intrigue upon her face. "This…is where I grew up, Elena."

He realizes that this is the first time he has made such an admission to anyone, least of all a human. Every detail, every last characteristic of his human life has been guarded and locked away so thoroughly, for so long…and yet he finds that sharing such a thing with this girl comes as naturally as breathing once did.

Shock replaces intrigue then, and she inhales deeply. "I didn't realize…that we both grew up so near to each other," she whispers. She smiles peculiarly then, her chocolate gaze capturing him with its forlornness. "But I guess we missed each other by about a thousand years, huh?"

His lips quirk wryly in response. "Yes," he murmurs. "We did indeed miss each other."

Her hair ripples as she turns her head, interest drawn by the outside again. "But I can't imagine it…living when it was just you and nature, without having to see buildings, or power lines, or concrete or cars." A soft breath escapes her. "When everything was just beginning. I can't imagine it, Elijah."

Before she has even finished, he is beside her door, opening it rather entertained at her wide-eyed features.

"Then allow me to tell you of the land as I remember it," he offers, extending his hand to her.

There is no hesitation as she accepts his proffered hand. Her smaller hand fits into his larger one perfectly: first there is a sensuous sliding of skin, then a whisper of palm against palm. Her slight fingers are refreshingly warm against his cool ones, tentatively curling around his as he assists her from the car.

Though their hands separate as they begin their unhurried walk through the forest, their bodies, perhaps unconsciously, perhaps knowingly, are divided only by the breadth of a hair.

Her expression is contemplative, longing as he describes the wild, uninhabited land of his boyhood, the words seemingly tumbling from his mouth on their own accord. He is quite powerless to stop them—her eager eyes and wistful smile as she envisions the picture he so willingly paints are a balm on the loneliness all vampires are cursed to a lifetime of.

She wishes to have been there to see it—Elijah cannot help but vividly imagine what it would have been like, had Elena existed during his brief span as a human, when he had been made only of flesh and blood, emotions and honor, and could have offered her as much as any _human_ male could now.

Offered her what she deserved, and what he could never again completely give.

Undoubtedly, he knows, his human self would have been as wholly enamored with this strong-willed girl as much as his stoic vampire side is. Her strong will and forthright manner would have drawn his soul to hers until he had sought her hand in marriage; a lasting union that would have granted him the right to freely look upon her with love, to spend each passing day of life at her side, watching the world age contentedly.

_Yes,_ Elijah thinks as he observes her quietly. Elena is twirling around slightly, wondrous gaze absorbing each hollowed tree and rocky sentinel through new eyes, through Elijah's eyes.

He misses nothing; not the small flashes of childlike innocence playing on her normally serious face, the flow of her long, brown hair as she turns and turns, boots scuffing on the scattered pine needles and sending them flying in a playful whirl.

_He wishes that she had been there to share that life with him. That she had known the man he once was, rather than the vampire he has eventually become. _

But he cannot say it, just as he cannot tell her about the time he proudly crafted his first bow from the ancient branches of the grand oak tree that stood in the village's center, or the summer days he would spend watching the forest hum with vibrancy and the indolent nights that would find him lying by the river, watching the moonlight reflect upon the waters. He would not speak of the moment his father had bequeathed unto him his first foal to care for, a noble creature that had stayed faithfully by his side through hardship and happiness, or the long rides through the reaching meadows he would embark on. He could not tell her about his pride and fear the evening Finn was born, giving him the role of 'brother' that had defined him since; could not tell her of his sorrow and agony when Henrik had been slain, or the night that he had found Tatia slaughtered and his siblings twisted into something unrecognizable as human, and the hauntings of failure that have lurked in his heart ever since.

He so dearly wants to, with an igniting desire that sears through every inch of his lifeless body.

But he doesn't.

Instead, he unlocks the gates to a conversation that will lead them both down a path of regret.

* * *

><p><em><strong>It's you.<strong>_

"I can hear your heartbeat, Elena," he tells her calmly, staring aimlessly into the thick tangle of bush and bramble that surrounds them this far in the woods. Her astonishment is palpable, her aforementioned heartbeat suddenly thumping at double the pace.

He is nearly tempted to smile at her reaction, wondering if the Salvatore brothers have failed to inform her of this little vampire trick.

But then again, he considers after a distasteful moment of thinking of the brothers in question, it's quite possible that neither have developed the fine-tuned ability of heartbeat detection. That neither have managed to overcome the initial, thunderous distraction of a human's pulsating arteries and thrumming veins to detect the low murmur of the muscle nestled deep within the chest. It requires much practice and necessary repetition, with an underlying self-control—

-and from what he has thus far witnessed of Damon's incurably tempestuous temperament and young Stefan's constant self-struggle, he would hardly imagine either dedicating the time or energy to master what would seem to many to be a superfluous skill. They would be very much like Klaus in that regard, for his younger brother has never quite mastered the art of subtlety, for all that he enjoys charging into matters as an enraged bull would do.

Elijah's not lying—he can hear her heartbeats quite clearly, as though he had his ear pressed directly above her heart, listening to her vitality as the time lazily passed them by.

But he doesn't tell her that it's a matter of choice, and that he can tune such things out as easily as he can hone in upon them.

He doesn't enlighten her to the fact that he listens to her heartbeat whenever they're together, focusing on the light, steady pattern that he finds strangely soothing, lulling him into a dangerous complacency. He enjoys the soft, pulsing rhythm of her heart in his company, so different from the normally wild pounding of wisely-frightened humans or uncertain, wary vampires that surround him.

He takes pleasure in the little trill of beats that occur when she's flustered, and the strong thrum when she's being her normal defiant self. The slow hum of weariness and the fast drum of excitement can all be sensed, and he continually finds himself gauging her wellbeing by the pattering melody of her heartbeats when he's near her.

But the slow ache of hurt spreading through his body at the sound of her uneven, sporadic heartbeats, the deafening ones that betray her uncertainty and lies, is unforeseen even by him.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Your compassion…is a gift, Elena.<strong>_

"Elijah," she says, shaking her head in despair as he approaches her, the suspicion and dread inside him mounting with each step. Her face is pale, her features drawn—the small lightheartedness from earlier has disappeared once again, like water beneath the sun's rays. "I _never_ wanted this to happen."

They are separated only by a hair's breadth now, the outside world vanishing until only the two of them remain. "_What,_ Elena?" he asks intently, eyes never breaking away from hers.

Her voice grows thick as she tells him his mother's plan, as though she cannot bring herself to force the words out.

As though she despises being the one to cause him this sort of pain.

He listens with growing comprehension; a dull sort of acknowledgment of her words sweeping through him as he realizes what he has suspected all along is true: it was hardly a mother's love and familial desire to reunite with her children that has driven Esther's return.

It has been nine hundred achingly extensive years of being apart, of longing for the wholeness of his family…and it has taken equally as long to recognize the foolhardiness of that same wish.

If Elena is aware of this plan (_he ignores the tight constriction of his heart at that)_ then it is highly likely that so too do the Salvatores, and the rest of her motley group of humans, vampires, and werewolves.

It is equally likely then, he ruminates as he stares down into her turbulent brown eyes and their unshielded emotions, that she has been warned to do nothing, to say nothing…most particularly to him. If that is indeed true, then he knows what she's risking by doing so.

"I'm so sorry," she whispers fervently, as though pleading for his belief in this (_he already does)_. Her head tilts forward, her small hand coming up to lightly touch his arm. "I _wish_ there was something I could do to help."

He closes his eyes at her heartfelt hope, apathy invading his features as he arrives at the conclusion of what he must do in order to save the life of his family.

"You know, Elena," he comments almost offhandedly, gaze now steadfastly fixed upon the towering trees above them (_he cannot bring himself to look at her)_. "If there's one thing I've learned upon my time on this earth…" Her confusion is plain right then, emanating from her as obviously as tears indicated sorrow and laughter does happiness. He wonders (_dreads)_ if she suspects what he's about to do, even as his eyes snap back down to hers, his face a blank mask.

"Be careful what you wish for."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Carry it with you—<strong>_

With one mighty lash of his foot, he causes the grassy earth beneath them to crumble, the ground erupting in a spray of black dirt and green wildlife as a gaping hole takes its place.

In another time, another place, he would have found the wide-eyed shock on Elena's face amusing; her human openness has always entranced him, her ability to so clearly convey her emotions such a foreign event to Elijah that he cannot help but wish to see every subtle nuance, every little change in her expressions.

But instead, he swiftly reaches out and pulls her tightly against him, careful not to exert enough pressure to bruise her. She gasps as she loses her precarious balance, small hands coming against his chest to grasp his suit jacket in an attempt at steadying herself.

There is but a brief moment, a heartbeat within a heartbeat, really, in which they stand there, on the cusp of the gaping stretch of blackness that reaches down, down, down. She is warm, and so very alive within his grasp; her petite form is at odds with the strength he has seen her forced to display at all times.

He inhales deeply, allowing only one tiny fraction of her short human life to be spent in his embrace (_bound together as though they were lovers)_—

-and then leaps down into the pit, effortlessly absorbing the jarring impact of the landing and shielding her from the worst of it.

As he straightens up, he glances down speculatively at the young human cradled against him. Elena is breathing hard into his shoulder, clearly shaken from the sudden jump into the darkness below. Her fingers are still firmly clenched in his clothing, though his hold on her has loosened. Her soft pants resonate deafeningly in the darkness, though the sound is muffled by the fabric of his suit jacket and calmed by Elijah's hand gently resting against her hair, not moving but a soothing support.

Once her wits have been gathered about her, and she seems to remember _who_ she is clinging to, she immediately releases her grip upon him and stumbles away, uncertainty and bewilderment lacing her clumsy movements.

"Elijah?"

He is silent as her breathless voice echoes eerily around them, her hoarse whisper holding confusion, and fright, and disbelief, and everything that he has never wished to again cause her on his behalf. It swirls around the vast cave, each repetition of his name surrounding him accusingly.

Their eyes lock, human brown warring with impenetrable black.

When he finally speaks, it is factual and impersonal, as though they are two strangers thrown together for the first time (_does it twist her insides as brutally as it does his_?) "I am going to see your Salvatore brothers," he informs her, eyes as cold and hard as unyielding stone. "I hardly believe they'll be apathetic to our cause, should your life be at stake as well."

It would have been far better, he thinks, had she broken out screaming, yelling, condemning him for his actions and swearing her hatred for him, regarding him with fear and disgust. Such is the behavior he has come to expect from those whom are victims of the worst crime: betrayal.

But she doesn't.

Instead, she simply nods, her shining brown eyes clear of anything besides resignation and understanding. There is a sad smile playing on her lips, as though she believes she deserves this.

And somehow, that is what nearly unravels his resolve.

"Oh." He looks at her wordlessly as she speaks, voice soft and monotonous. Her arms wrap around herself; her hands holding her composure together as she sucks in a steadying breath. "Then you should…probably go to your family now. If you're going to stop her in time."

She matches his impersonal tone, refusing to look at him. The warmth of their earlier interaction has seeped away now, frozen by her deeds and his necessary actions.

He quirks an eyebrow at her. "You're not going to attempt to escape?"

A grim expression spreads across her features almost immediately, her shoulders stiffening at his bemusement. "Of course I am," she answers frankly, boldly. Her gaze flicks up to the high opening above, and then to the countless tunnel maws that lead to yet other tunnels. It is a veritable labyrinth, and she knows, as well as he does, that chance of escape is little to none. She hesitates briefly, then continues, "But I'm not going to try to stop you, Elijah."

"I see." He turns away from her at her admission, hand idly skimming the craggy surface of the cavern wall as he considers her words, and her stark honesty.

But there is too much at stake here, precious people whom he is responsible for—he cannot fail them once again by allowing personal feelings to hinder his plans (_he smiles bitterly as he recalls Klaus's fateful words, so long ago, decrying love as a vampire's fatal weakness. It may end up being his, but he will not allow it to be the death knell for his family)._

"If all goes well," he says briskly, his back to her as he strides away. "You will be freed by the end of the night, Elena."

Then he is gone, not waiting, nor wanting, to be privy to her reply. His lithe movements spirit him from the forest clearing in an expedient manner, for there is no time to be wasted.

And perhaps she believes him to be far enough away, but he still hears the nearly inaudible "Good luck" that she gently murmurs into the stale silence of her prison, her voice melting into the stirring wind sweeping through the empty forest.

Elijah's grip nearly crushes the phone as he removes it from his pocket and calls Rebekah.

* * *

><p><em><strong>As I will carry my regret—<strong>_

"I'm here, Elijah," the drawling voice of his little sister sounds in his ear, hours later after he has (forcibly) contracted the help of the murderously resentful Salvatores. "_She_ still is too…and we're going to have such a _grand_ time. I am not going to spend my last few hours in _complete_ tedium after all." He can only imagine the sadistic look sure to be painted on her deceivingly doll-like face…and the strained fear that must be engraved upon Elena's.

Hardly for the first time since calling Rebekah, he questions the wisdom of it. But using her rancorous hatred against Elena is the only way to ensure that his younger sister stays far from whatever occurs among his family tonight—should reasoning not succeed and killing Esther be their only option, Rebekah does not need to bear witness to it.

But neither does she need to get carried away.

"Rebekah," he cautions sternly. "You are _not_ to hurt her."

There is a pause of disbelieving silence, before his sister snarls heatedly, "_Not hurt her?_ Elijah, _mother_ is trying to murder us all, will most probably succeed in a few hours, and you're trying to protect the stupid wench responsible for it?"

"She is an incentive, nothing more," Elijah replies impassively after a moment, easily ignoring Rebekah's incredulous snort from the other end. "Her capture will ensure the Salvatore brothers' compliance in this matter."

"But this is _her fault!_ All of this is her fault, Elijah!" Rebekah's words rise to a shrill shriek at the end, betraying her rapidly escaping control. "She deserves it, deserves to die if we do. If you, or Nik, or Kol are lost tonight, then I'll—I'll kill her with my dying breath, I will! I will!"

For a moment, upon hearing the childish petulance in her voice, born of fright and terror and a dread of having everything snatched away, Elijah is once again reminded how so very young his sister is; how quickly she was forced to grow up without truly being given the chance to do so.

He sighs, understanding her ire all too well. But her volatile state is a dangerous one now, particularly to the girl held captive with his sister—and his goal tonight is to preserve life, not cause further death and despair. "Rebekah," he says, intentionally diminishing his earlier harsh tone into one more reassuring. "I promise you, none of us will be dying tonight. And—"

His sister makes a noise of intended interruption, but he simply overruns it by paying no heed. "And in order for that to happen, I need you to play your part properly, understand?"

When she speaks, she is grudging and sullen. "And that means no decapitating Elena, I suppose."

"I would appreciate that, yes."

Rebekah is clearly still fuming on the other end of the line, for she begins incredulously, "Elijah, you…you don't _actually_—"

But Elijah never discovers the end of her sentence, because an unbearable pain lances through his chest at the invisible dagger being thrust through it, and he feels the tell-tale signs of his limbs growing heavy and stiff and the world fading into a monotonous gray as he collapses limply upon the ground. His skin has begun to turn ashen, spidery black veins peppering the pallid surface.

The last sensation is a strange one, as though the essences of Kol and Klaus and Rebekah and Finn are screaming with unbearable pain, in unison with his own silent cries.

(Later, he will hear of Rebekah's near attempt at burning Elena alive when she almost succeeds at escaping during this brief period of unconsciousness; his fingers will tighten upon the window sill until it violently splinters with an audible _crack_.

His only thought will be that she will most certainly hate him until the end of time…

…and forever is quite a while to a vampire.)

* * *

><p><em><strong>Always and forever.<strong>_

The curious human girl who showed no fear upon meeting him, when so many others had turned and fled as far as he had idly allowed.

The brave young woman who had taken his hand unflinchingly, brown eyes defiant, entrusting her fate to him and knowing with certainty that it would mean her death.

The compassionate mortal at war with herself over his wellbeing and the safety of her family, wishing to right the wrong she had played a part in creating against the wishes of her friends.

And his betrayal, once again, of her trust in favor of his own ends.

His mother's words resound inside his head, unhurriedly poisoning his mind and percolating deep within his heart, threatening to shatter whatever is left of it. The simmering doubt has been planted, the image of his perceived character eroding as quickly as soil against a mighty rain.

_**Even you Elijah, with your claim to nobility… **__He makes a deal with this strange creature, this reincarnation of a girl he had once cherished above all else. The guilt that swells within him at the sight of familiar brown eyes, brown eyes that see directly to his very core, is assuaged by his assurances of protection for her family, for her friends, and eventually…for her as well. _

…_**you're no better. **__She is there, lying motionlessly next to her incapacitated lover with the rosy bloom faded from her cheeks and dark lashes resting forebodingly upon her skin —he feels the inexplicable, irrational urge to go to her, to desperately cradle her in his arms and whisk her away from this hellish pit of despair and death. But it takes only one false promise, one set of words falling from his treacherous brother's lips, and he abandons her, abandons his promises, abandons the trust she had so willingly given him. _

_**Killer… **__Bodies outline a bloody trail behind him—their deaths have been quick, painless, for suffering and torture has never been one of his enjoyments…but they are bodies all the same. Corpses of humans, pallid vampire carcasses, a longing father and dedicated son deceased in his service, a kind aunt and her brave, brave niece victims of his selfishness. _

_**A curse, a plague…**__He remembers his parent's stories of the pestilence that had swept the lands of Europe, indiscriminately stealing lives and bringing ruin to all those it touched. Is that what he was? What they were?_

_**Unfeeling…**__Taking life had become so routine, so natural now, so different from the repugnance with which he had viewed it as a human. When had he come to accept murder as inherent to a vampire's nature, to betray his own nature so thoroughly? _

**Monster. **

The aspersions cast upon him are almost too much too bear; words of hatred and disappointment falling from the same lips that used to sing sweetly to him as a child, used to proudly praise and encourage him, kiss lovingly and laugh playfully with him. His actions today…have they proven that woman to be correct? His whole life, his desires, his drive to reunite those he loves…has it all been for naught, except to create a hideous abomination where he had supposed there to be honor and resolve?

And then _her_ voice breaks through the cacophony of disapproval and cruelty, as earnest and sincere as it has unfailingly been.

_**Elijah is an honorable man…**_ _Her face is impish, her words determined as she staunchly hangs up the phone on her frantic beau, fingers brushing unintentionally against his as she hands it to him without hesitation. She's witnessed him tear hearts from chests of the living dead, seen him decapitate others without a second thought, watched him decimate a house with nothing more than a handful of rocks…and yet she isolates herself from the world to spend one sunlit day by a lake simply talking to him. _

_**You cared about her…didn't you?**__ Her melodious voice, her empathy curling around him like a lover's embrace, one so difficult to emerge from. There is no condemnation, no scorn for his weakness. She is close, so very near, and yet she exhibits no fear, shows nothing but a depthless compassion born from a kindred soul. And he wants only to kiss her then, to press his lips to her in the simplest form of communication known to any creature of the earth: touch. To allow all of the gratitude and regret locked somewhere within him to encompass her; to engulf her with the pure joy of being understood by another person's spirit. It is not lust and not quite love, but mere thankfulness that this being had been born into this world. _

_A disbelieving stare, Damon's skeptical snort_. _**And you're trusting him?**__ She doesn't waver, she never wavers. She risks Damon's unrestrained fury and Stefan's disappointment all for the sake of defending him against them; he can only watch as she bristles like a riled cat, gaze blazing. __**I am.**_

_**I'll find you, ok? **__He believes that had there been a hundred, a thousand, a million more guests in their house tonight he still would have been capable of choosing her from among them in the span of a heartbeat. A single, lingering touch upon her arm is all he will permit himself that night, and he draws away from her in the fear that he will be tempted to pull her flush against him, sweeping her downstairs to join the mingling of bodies and rush of motion that mortals call a dance just for the mere excuse of holding this girl. She gives him a confident, reassuring glance as they stand close together in the hallway; they are bound in a shared goal. _

_The tiny smile curling around her lips as she opens the door to find him there, as though she's always been waiting to find him there. __**Elijah. **_

* * *

><p>He breathes out slowly, the sharp pain of his mother's infliction ebbing away into a mere ache. His fingers drop the pen upon the desk with a loud clatter in the otherwise quiet room, the shreds of moonlight leaking through the window panes illuminating his tired face. The unfinished letter looks up at him from the desk, the final line standing out in sharp relief as a glaring reminder.<p>

Loose ends must be tied up; there is one last thing to be accomplished before he departs from Mystic Falls. One finger absently traces the fine lettering upon the page.

_Always and forever_ indeed. Except he has not been entirely truthful with her.

For it is hardly his regret he will carry with him for all of time.

That is undeniably a burden he is willing to bear, but there is another as well. He refuses to bestow a name upon it, dares not to, but it is infinitely stronger than regret, far more poignant than despair, and the most lethal flaw of a vampire.

(And it is a burden, he decides, that Elena need never know of.)

—

—

—

And so it is with slow strokes of the pen that he signs his name, the black ink staining the page with finality.

In a way, he feels as though he is signing the death certificate of his heart.

—

—

—

**_Elijah._**

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><p><em>fin<em>

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><p><em>Author's note: So, this is my first ElijahElena story ever. Actually, it's my first Vampire Diaries story ever, and I'm a relative newbie to the fandom. I fell in complete and utter love with these two almost immediately after they had their first scene together, and their obvious chemistry, immediate connection, and inherent understanding of one another has been fueling my desire to write something revolving around this couple. Hopefully I did them justice, and I'd love to hear any feedback or constructive criticism that both fans and non-fans of these two have to offer :-)_


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